


submergence

by alligatorblood



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bella's out of her depth and that's how we like it !!!, F/F, Rose is a Mess n a Lesbian n we Lov, Science Fiction, like a tiny bit sci-fi but it's not the focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-08-23 22:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16627373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alligatorblood/pseuds/alligatorblood
Summary: Rosalie volunteers for an experimental trial that miraculously erases traumatic memories. Everything goes well until it doesn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wow a multi-chapter fic from me? who knew?  
> anyway, all human au. three chapters + a short epilogue !!
> 
> as always, you can find me on tumblr @rosedenali

RETRIEVAL

REVIVAL

REMOVAL

**DAY 5**

.

"What did you think of me when we met?"

"I don't remember meeting you."

"That's funny… Neither do I."

…

…

…

**DAY 1**

.

The window on the far wall of her bedroom is open. No wonder it was so cold last night. Bella slides it shut hard enough to shake some loose paint chips from the trim outside. They rain down just like the endless water from the sky. Her windowsill is wet. She's going to be late.

.

Her old truck roars along the rain-slicked switchbacks that climb the hill at the head of the town. In the distance, she can make out the lab, a grand glass building flanked by trees, boldly overlooking the modest sprawl of the town. It put Forks on the map if nothing else.

Bella parks in the back and swipes her card at the checkpoint. She hands her bag over to Mike at security, who searches it semi-thoroughly before handing it back and ushering her through to the elevators. She packs in with a half dozen others, presses the fifth-floor button three times, and waits impatiently for the steel doors to slide shut.

She's late, but chances are, no one has noticed yet. She's a fifth-floor. Not important. She likes it that way.

Angela is already hard at work in her cubicle, only sparing a quick greeting with partial eye contact before syncing back with her screen. She's one of the few friends Bella has made since she started on the fifth floor two years ago.

Bella shrugs out of her jacket and drops into her swivel chair, booting up her computer and twisting back and forth as it warms up. The sticky notes around the monitor remind her of things she was supposed to have done weeks ago- pick up creamer, cash her father's check, call someone about the fritzing cable. Not that any of it matters anymore. Expiration dates and all that.

She enters her employee credentials when prompted and is met with a blank screen. Looks like she's not the only one running late this morning.

…

Seven floors below on sub-basement floor number two, a handful of orderlies are prepping the new round of patients. Ten fresh-faced volunteers newly dressed in identical green jumpsuits standing in a line, waiting for further instructions. They are waiting in a plain grey room buzzing with the sound of industrial lights. The orderlies collect their jewelry and remaining personal effects, tucking them away outside the perimeter to be returned at the end of the trial.

Rosalie Hale clenches her hands into fists and releases them. She does this several times over in the span of minutes it takes for the orderlies to shuffle out and the doctor to walk in.

She looks at the door they came in through. It's not too late, is it? She could walk out right now and they would just bring in another one of the hundreds of people on their waiting lists. It would be inconsequential. And she's about to at least  _think_  about breaking formation and fleeing when the doctor's voice fills the room and pins her feet to the ground.

"Good morning," he says, smiling. "Welcome to CriaTech. I'd like to thank each and every one of you for participating in this trial. My apologies, I'm told we're running a little behind schedule, so I'll try to make this quick."

Rosalie frowns at the sight of him. He's young and handsome. He doesn't look like much of a doctor at all. More like a hired actor for the purpose of making them feel safe. She touches the back of her neck with two fingers and winces. It's still tender from the injection.

"I'm Dr. Cullen. I'll be overseeing this trial. If you have any questions, you're more than welcome to ask now, though this procedure has proven very safe in the past and very effective. You should have nothing to worry about." He pauses and his charisma floods the gap.

Rose looks down the line of volunteers. They all shift on their feet, bursting with inquiries but unwilling to be the first to speak. She toys with the steel barcoded 7 hanging on a chain around her neck. Dr. Cullen waits for a few more beats before smiling and motioning toward the door behind him.

"Okay, if you're ready. Follow me through here."

He leads them down a short corridor that opens up into a large, brightly lit, clinically white room with a row of sturdy-looking chairs at the center, marked numerically from one to ten. Dr. Cullen tells them to sit in the corresponding chair when they're ready. On the far wall, a large pane of glass separates them from a smaller room full of blinking machinery and monitors. A couple of people in lab coats are crowded inside, watching them closely.

The four orderlies come in again, this time with small plastic cups filled with a thick purple liquid. The girl next to her, 6, wastes no time throwing it back and reclining her chair. She notices Rose looking and gives her a wink. "See you on the other side."

Rosalie bristles and looks away. She hesitates briefly before downing the cup and coughing twice at the abrasive, coppery taste. Her stomach twists. It's just nerves. She shoves away the feeling and leans her chair back to match everyone else.

The lights cut out. Rose grips both her armrests.

Dr. Cullen, now behind the glass with all the computers and other doctors, taps his hand against the microphone. It screeches for a half second.

"Well then," he says. "Let's get started."

…

Upstairs, Bella pokes at the trail mix Angela passed over their connecting cubicle wall. She picks out the raisins and arranges them into a line on her desk, marching toward the trash can.

"How's your dad?" Angela asks.

"Like always," she says. "How's Eric."

"The same. He's up for a new position on Two."

"That's great, Ang. Really."

A loading screen pops up on her monitor. She puts her earbuds in and grabs the stylus from the dock, tapping it idly as the CriaTech logo bounces rhythmically on her desktop.

BASELINE MEMORY

NEUTRAL

BEGIN

The keyboard minimizes as a string of digits floods the touchscreen between her wrists on the desk, sliding across from the right and disappearing off the edge of the left. Above, a blurry image comes into focus on her monitor. It's grainy and she knows it's not going to get much better.

There's a flicker of light, a fireplace roaring in a dim room. In the string of digits, she recognizes the serial for FIRE before its suggestion pops up and moves on.

In front of the hearth, two young boys in matching striped shirts are playing with little metal cars. A woman walks by carrying a laundry basket. All the numbers check out. It's pretty intact, almost prepackaged for her.

The edges of the picture start to shimmer and transpose with a brighter image. The number for MEADOW streaks across the lower screen. She circles it with the stylus and marks it for disposal. The corners darken again as the scene locks in. CHILDREN. TOYS. MOTHER.

The two boys start to bicker over one of the cars. It gets louder and louder, and eventually, one of them shoves the other to the ground.

"Hey," a soft, disembodied voice says, and their eyes snap up. The one on the ground sits up, his wispy blond hair sticking out in every direction. "Stop it, Evan. Be nice."

They both smile sheepishly and go back to their game.

It stays on this for a long time, occasionally focusing on other parts of the room, but it always comes back to the boys. It's simple and boring. That's good, a fifth-floor's dream. She checks the patient number in the corner and smiles. Number 7, an odd. Evens shift analysts. Odds stay. She gets this easy one through the whole trial.

Then suddenly, the boy on the right with the red car starts glowing, the air around him crackles, she can hear it. She scans the numbers for the anomaly, but the screen fades to black before she can mark them.

END

Bella sits back in her chair and tugs her earbuds out. A few feet away, Angela sighs.

"What'd you get?" Bella asks, peering over the divider.

Her glasses are off and she's pinching the bridge of her nose."Five solid minutes of untranslated Tolstoy. Even. You?"

"Kids. Odd."

Angela presses her lips together. "Can't say I envy you."

"I don't know. Seemed kind of run-of-the-mill."

"Run-of-the-mill?" She shakes her head, amused. "Look where we are, Bella. That doesn't exist here."

Bella shrugs and sits back down. Maybe she's right. She launches the review program, eager to skip to the end and filter out that last little blip. But after combing through the five-minute clip a good dozen times over, she finds nothing out of the ordinary. No glowing kids. No inexplicable noises. Nothing.

She rubs her eyes and chalks it up to trying to function on three hours of sleep. She's lucky. She got a boring one.

…

Hours later and seven floors down, Dr. Cullen and his team watch the patients interact in the common room. They are hand-picked by the doctor himself. The CriaTech volunteer vetting process is meticulous, but this is something of a pet project of his. It had to be just right.

Ten people dragged through the mud.

They've been encouraged to socialize but not to discuss the trial. Though nothing they know at this point is strong enough to alter anything, it's still good to keep them aware that this isn't just some social experiment that ends in a twenty-dollar payday. This is the future, and if it all goes well, Project S can be made available at every CriaTech lab in the country. It's all falling into place, but he steels himself. It's dangerous to think that far ahead, to overlook what's right in front of him.

"Carlisle," Dr. Platt says, pulling him aside. Her hand is slight on the crook of his elbow but familiar. "The baselines came in from the fifth floor, and… Well, see for yourself."

She passes him her tablet, and he glances at the readings. They're all perfect, save for a steep spike that disagrees with him.

"I see," he says. "And there's no way to tell which pathway this came from?"

Esme looks at him, and he can tell she's gauging him, trying to find a common ground between what he wants to hear and what she has to tell him. She sighs. "You know there isn't. The best we can do is monitor it."

"Keep it contained then."

"Of course," she says. She seems disappointed.

…

Charlie's nurse has the TV on when she gets home. It's playing a CriaTech commercial, like always. The one about the spinal cord regeneration that reunites sad children with piggybacks from their previously paralyzed fathers.

In the past ten years, CriaTech labs have been springing up in seemingly the most random and remote places in the country, flooding tiny communities with jobs and solving the world's problems all in the same breath. Everyone calls it miracle science because no one understands it.  _CriaTech: It works. We don't know why._

Clara pokes her head out from Charlie's room and greets her briskly. She shoulders her bag. "Sorry to rush out like this. My granddaughter has her piano recital."

"That's alright. Thanks for staying with him. Any changes?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Sorry." She apologizes like it's somehow her fault. Bella wishes she wouldn't but doesn't know how to broach the topic without sounding ungrateful for her help.

"Thank you," Bella calls after her, but Clara's already halfway to her car.

Bella sighs and goes to her father's door. She only glances inside for a second before pulling it shut.

…

…

…

**DAY 2**

.

Back in Rochester, she had a sprawling apartment to herself, a great job in a publishing house, and everyone she had ever loved within just a few miles of her.

She wakes up now in a solid white 10 by 10 room on a squeaky cot pushed up against the far wall. Her head is thundering, but if she closes her eyes, she can still see the warm rays of light coming through her window, shining off the wood floors, white linen curtains billowing softly in the breeze.

No. Welcome to CriaTech, Project S. She runs her issued plastic comb through her hair and brushes her teeth with chalky-textured toothpaste over the small metal sink. On the wall hangs a fresh green jumpsuit.

She folds her single blanket neatly at the end of her cot and scans the steel barcoded 7 around her neck that unlocks the door with a near-hydraulic whoosh.

She can see 2, 3, and 9 talking in the hall by the bathrooms. She brushes past them. They say hello. She halfway mumbles it back.

…

Bella sits across from her father, two plates of runny eggs between them. It's the only way he'll eat them. The bright yolk dribbles from his fork as it wobbles treacherously toward his mouth. He's hard to look at sometimes. Bella looks down at her work tablet instead and reads through her emails.

"Billy called earlier," she ventures. "He wants to know if you'd like him to visit you while I'm at work."

Charlie picks up his glass of water. He glances at her from over the top of it. His eyebrows had gone grey years ago just like the rest of him.

She sighs. "I told him you weren't feeling well."

He nods once. "That's good," he says.

.

She has just enough time to swing by the cafeteria and grab Angela a coffee to repay her for the raisin-dominant trail mix from yesterday. The other analysts are all milling around in small groups, anxious to get started, to get the bulk of it over with.

Angela accepts the coffee and raises it as if to toast her. "Day two."

"Day two," she echoes.

…

Downstairs, Dr. Esme Platt slides her arms into the sleeves of her lab coat and crosses the room to straighten Carlisle's tie. He has half the CriaTech logo imprinted on his cheek from sleeping at his desk again.

"You can't keep sleeping here," she says. "You have to take care of yourself."

"I know," he says. "Good morning."

She sighs. "Day two."

They've run a cycle of this trial once every three months for the past four and a half years, and it's always been day two that has him on edge. That abnormal spike in baselines has been haunting the corners of all his thoughts.

"It might've been a fluke," Esme says, tugging on his tie to bring him back. He smiles. She knows him well.

He so hopes it was a fluke, but if not, that one little flicker can bring down the whole of Project S, his life's work. At the end of the day, the analysts on the fifth floor will send down reams and reams of data based on the mass collections today. If there's an identifiable problem, they'll know for sure by tonight.

…

Rose is sitting on a couch pushed in the corner of the common room. The others are huddled around the board game set up in the center of the room or off somewhere else on the floor killing time until Dr. Cullen comes to get them.

She props her elbow up on the arm of the couch and rests her forehead against her palm. Her headache from yesterday persists. She'd slept too lightly, waking up every few minutes, facing the unfamiliar shock of her surroundings over and over.

Someone in the group around the game board gets knocked back to the start and the whole table shouts in approval. Rose closes her eyes so hard, she can hear rumbling. It isn't going to work, it can't. Not for her. She's always going to remember.

The cushion dips beside her as someone sits down. She cracks one eye open just long enough for her face to register. It's 6. One room over. One chair down. One spot ahead in line. Beside her, 10 sits awkwardly on the far arm of the couch. He's so short, his feet hang a couple inches above the ground.

"Look at them. It's like they don't even know we're being watched right now." 6 nudges her shoulder, her curls bounce with the movement. "I'm El. This is Archie."

Rose shoots her a look, but 6 just smirks, amused by the effort. "I guess you've got the right idea. We're here to get rid of memories, not make new ones. Archie here was in a gang in South Mississippi. You believe that? You'd never be able to tell by just looking at him."

She's right, but Rose doesn't want to spare a thought toward either of them. 6 doesn't accept. She jabs a finger into Rose's wrist. "What's that?"

Rose pulls her arm away so quickly, 6's hand falls onto the couch cushion. Miffed, she holds her hands up in surrender. 10 shoves her shoulder, and she relents. "Okay. Sorry. I'm not good with boundaries."

"It- It's fine," Rose says.

El leans back and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. "Watch this," she says, then shamelessly louder. "God, I'm so fucking thirsty!"

Rose inches away from her, jarred. 10 chuckles.

"Wait for it," El whispers. And sure enough, about thirty seconds later and orderly happens by with a snack cart topped with a pitcher of water and a stack of paper cups.

"See," El says, tapping a finger against her temple. "Always listening."

Rose smiles faintly as El gets up and pours herself a cup of water. She's halfway through chugging it when Dr. Cullen walks in.

El crushes the paper cup and tosses it at her. "C'mon, 7. Let's get lost."

…

Three hours later, Bella rubs her eyes and tucks one leg beneath her in her chair.

Day two is just a mass data dump of memories. Useless stuff like the day  _after_  7 first learned to ride her bike without training wheels. Stray conversations that took place when she didn't know the difference between a hotel and a motel and used them interchangeably. A random day in grade school where the substitute teacher wore a vest with a cow on it. Nothing of any consequence.

Bella has never understood the process completely, but it's never been too important. All she has to do is make sure each scene is intact and filter out the little flourishes added in by the AI or the straying of the mind. It's not a difficult job most days, but day two is like watching randomized episodes of a foreign sitcom with no context and no comedy either.

At least 7 seems to have had a few interesting memories from her childhood growing up inside a MANSION that always seemed to have something going on inside.

Though she does spend a remarkable amount of time looking in MIRRORS. At first, Bella thought she was just vain, but it wasn't really that at all. She talks to herself- a lot- and Bella feels like she shouldn't be listening, but she has to.

"You're okay," 7 says as a teenager, sitting at her vanity and adjusting her student government campaign pin. "You're going to win. You deserve this."

The memory fuses into another much older one. She's running through the grass behind her house with that little mousy GIRL that's always with her. They're playing tag, but whenever the girl catches her, 7 bends the rules to get out of it. "You can't tag me in the sunlight!"

The girl rolls her eyes and Bella smiles a little. "This is boring."

"Race you to the treehouse," 7 says, giving the girl a shove before taking off into the treeline.

As the girls climb up the LADDER, the image glitches. On the lower screen, the numbers suggest FIRE and MOTHER and MEN. But back on the monitor, it's just 7 and her friend coloring on the floor of a surprisingly shabby TREEHOUSE. She marks the odd serials for removal, but they don't disappear. They don't alter the image as they should either. It's  _odd._

Bella's brows knit together. She's run into some glitches before- they all have, that's why it's still in testing. But nothing like this. She flags the treehouse memory for review downstairs, and by the time she looks up again, a whole new scene is playing out.

…

Dr. Platt scrolls through the list of patient 7's collected memories on her tablet. One of the analysts upstairs had flagged one, but in the troubleshooting description, they had just left a series of question marks. After watching it through, nothing serious jumped out. It was just an old childhood memory practically drenched in the rosy tint of time gone by.

If she had to guess, something went wrong in the numerical data, and that's Dr. Denali's department, not hers. She's only here to take a short assessment and answer any questions the subjects might have.

Across from her, 7 sits perfectly still in her chair, eyes trained on the steel table top. They're alone, but something tells her 7 is aware that everything is being recorded for the study.

She looks down at the digital file again. "What can you tell me about the treehouse?"

"Is this therapy now?"

Esme smiles. "No, of course not. We just need to make sure the simulation runs parallel with what you remember. So, for example, if you'd never even been in a treehouse, we'd know now that we'd need to recalibrate before we progress any further. Does that make sense?"

"Sure," 7 says. She twists the number around her neck in her hands. "It was my friend's. We used to pretend to be sick to stay home from school and sneak out to it."

"Does it have any other significance?" Esme asks. She pulls up the serial tags. FIRE lights up and grabs her attention. She selects it and the memory skips to the end- two kids playing in a treehouse in the dim evening light. No fire at all.

"Not really."

"Did it…" Esme sets the tablet down. "By any chance, was there a fire? Did it burn down?"

Rose narrows her eyes and leans away, thrown. "I- How did you know?"

"The AI is fitted with a predictive algorithm to sort of fill in the gaps in what you remember and piece the scene together. It must have picked up some information from another memory."

"I didn't even see it burn. I just came home from school one day and it was gone."

She'll have to tell Carlisle. The AI is supposed to be able to predict events, but only enough to fill in the scenes. Nothing quite like this. Still, it isn't exactly worrying.

She minimizes the list and pulls up 7's page, glancing over her vitals and sleep and activity logs collected by the tiny implant in her neck. "How are you feeling? Afterward, do you feel groggy or sluggish? Any pain?"

7 nods and touches the back of her neck. "I've had a headache since I went under yesterday."

According to the log, she hasn't gotten much sleep either, but it's to be expected of all the subjects. Esme had brought similar concerns to Carlisle before in an earlier trial, and all he'd said then was:  _I know. Why do you think I picked them?_

"I'll have an orderly bring something to your room."

7 thanks her briskly and gets up to leave. Esme starts to follow her out but stops as 7 hesitates by the door and lingers indecisively.

"Is there something else you needed?"

Her eyes go wide, and it's so familiar to Esme by now- this deer in the headlights girl. She's seen it dozens of times because it's always the same strain of people that end up on sub-basement floor number two.

"Do you know?" she asks, rubbing her palms together, two fingers on her wrist. "Does it actually work?"

Esme smiles warmly. This she can answer. "It does."

…

When Bella gets home, Jacob Black is sitting on her front porch steps. He smiles brightly and stands to greet her.

"Oh my god, Jake," Bella says, hopping out of her truck and stumbling over the sidewalk to hug him. He's about a foot taller and twice as wide as the last time she saw him. "What are you doing here?"

"My dad sent me," he says with a shrug. "Wanted me to check in on you."

"Well, I'm fine," she says. "What about you? How's school? I heard you're at UW now, that's awesome."

"Yeah, my last year. It's great."

They go inside, and Bella puts the kettle on the stove for Charlie. Jake just about takes up the entire living room, but when he smiles at her, she can see the same kid she used to babysit all those years ago.

"So," he says. "Bella. Mysterious, elusive Bella." She smiles. He's right. They haven't seen each other in at least five years. Since her graduation, maybe. Guilt curls around her. She should have visited him earlier. She's been back for two years now.

"What've you been up to?" he asks.

"Oh, all kinds of things. Cooking, cleaning, pledging my eternal allegiance to CriaTech. Rinse. Repeat. You want anything to drink? Water? Soda?"

"Soda's good. What do they make you do there? Shoot cancer cells with a laser gun? Or do you man the ouija board during life-threatening surgeries?"

"Shut up. It's not like that. It's mostly just little experiments. They do a lot of really cool stuff if you can get past all the miracle science and magic crap… They helped your dad, dude."

"I guess."

She grabs a can out of the fridge and tosses it horribly to him. He still manages to catch it before it takes out the picture frames lining the hearth.

"So what  _do_  you do there? You probably just answer phones on One, right?"

She exhales like a laugh. "Thanks. But you're wrong. I'm an analyst on Five for the memory trial. Project S, I think they call it."

Jake stills and shoots her a hard look. "That's not funny, Bella."

"I'm not joking. That's what I do. Sort numbers all day."

"Bella," he takes a step closer. "You're not serious. You've read the reports, right? You've seen the news every other day? You  _know_  how dangerous that is."

Bella rolls her eyes. "Yeah, staring at a screen all day is really killing me."

"That's not- I'm talking about the people who kill themselves after years of living through other people's shit memories. I'm talking about the  _analysts_  that stalk the patients after the trial lets out. Bella, why the hell are you doing this?"

The kettle whistles shrilly in the kitchen.

"It's just a job." Bella shrugs. "I want to help people."

Jake clenches his jaw and glares down at her. "Why? 'Cause you can't help Charlie?"

Charlie coughs in his room, and the kettle is still screaming. She presses her hand to her forehead and points to the front door. "You should leave, Jake. I'll see you later."

He shakes his head. "Whatever."

…

Rosalie pushes herself into the corner of her tiny room long after the lights cut out for the night. The cool walls burn against her bare arms, but she doesn't care. All she can think about is that stupid treehouse. And  _her_.

One night, they'd climbed up the ladder and Rose pulled her father's old pocket knife from a groove in the floor.

"We're best friends, right?" she asked, and Vera nodded her head vigorously. She was always doing that- doing whatever Rose asked, agreeing with her no matter what. There was no challenge in being friends with her.

Rosalie shudders at the memory of dragging the blade across her palm. She'd held it in Vera's face long enough to make her go pale. "Then prove it."

She tried to leave then, prying at the ladder hatch, but the stupid thing was always getting stuck. Eventually, Vera took the knife. She was tearing up by then, unwilling. But she was going to do it. Rose knew. She sliced her palm, and blood filled the cut.

Rose grinned so hard that it hurt. She smashed their hands together. "Friends forever."

"Friends forever," Vera echoed, beaming. Proud. And then ten years later, she threw her to the wolves.


	2. Chapter 2

**DAY 3**

.

_You're listening to 105.3 The Surge, brought to you by CriaTech: A better world, a better you._

_In just 10 years, we've seen the end of chronic and terminal illnesses, new, cutting-edge technology that has-_

She changes the channel randomly as she squints through the rain pounding on her windshield faster than the wipers can clear it.

_-join us as CriaTech takes on a new frontier. The human mi-_

Bella cuts off the radio.

The clouds are extra oppressive and dark today. The human body, the human mind, and the weather, apparently. Someone out there knows the sun doesn't shine on day three.

…

"I want you all to remember why you're here. What brought you to CriaTech. What led you to search for this trial, for help. You've all seen therapists, taken medication? And while those things may work over time, sometimes it isn't enough. Sometimes the pain is just  _too great._  It can't be helped conventionally. Project S was synthesized for you. For  _your_  pain and suffering. For those memories that hinder you and keep you from living your life."

Rose swallows. After four years, she  _deserves_  this. She downs her small plastic cup of the thick, purple sedative and doesn't flinch once.

"So today, I encourage you to face these painful memories. Because after you're done here, you will never have to see them again. You will be yourself again. Free to forge a new path."

On the other side of the glass, Dr. Cullen is backlit like an angel. There's nothing she wants to remember.

"This is why you're here. This is Project Submergence."

…

A loaded quiet swamps the fifth floor. The analysts stand in their cubicles, restless. Bella squeezes Angela's hand over the partition.

"We're doing a good thing."

"I know," Bella says.

All ten monitors blink to life at the same time.

INTEGRAL MEMORY PART 1

WARNING: ADVERSE/PRIVATIVE

BEGIN

…

Vera thinks her hair looks better curled. When it's straight, she says it makes her ears stick out like a mouse and she's been trying to get a handle on that nickname since preschool.

Rose stands behind her with the curling iron, sectioning out strands. Vera's chewing on her thumbnail, anxious about tonight.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" She catches Rose's eyes in the mirror. "Royce is gonna be there."

Rose rolls her eyes. "Is that supposed to interest me? He's an oaf. He's in my Russian literature class. He thinks Sholokhov is a Hebrew greeting."

"Okay, so maybe he's not the smartest guy out there, and he totally got in because his dad knows people, but he  _likes_  you. He talks about you all the time when we're at Tyler's apartment."

Rose raises an eyebrow. "If he likes me so much, then why didn't he invite me?"

"Maybe he's shy?"

"Right."

"Give him a chance, Rose. He's really nice when you get to know him."

Rosalie presses her lips together and releases the clamp on the iron. A perfect, dark curl bounces free. "I don't know, V. Something about him. He smiles like he knows how I'm gonna die or something."

Vera scoffs, but it's really more of a laugh. She turns in the chair and touches Rose's wrist. "C'mon, just go grab something from my closet. Hang out. Get drunk or something. You need to get out of your house. Seriously. It's getting weird."

…

Angela lets out a breath, engrossed. They all are. The thing is, day three is horrible, but in some tiny, festering way, it's why they're all here. They want to help people. Or do they just want to know how bad could it possibly be? Can it get any worse than that? Will it? Who else gets hurt? How badly? How much blood? How long did it last? How hard did he hit? How many times? How long were they stuck down there? Were they starving? How many bullets? How deep was the blade?

It's compelling in a way that doesn't make sense outside this giant glass building.

_Welcome to CriaTech: A better world, a better you._

…

They show up fashionably late, and then some. The party is at an old Victorian house a few blocks away from the campus. It's hot. Early September hot.

Tyler and Royce and a bunch of their friends are already inside and three drinks deep. His eyes light up when he sees them. Vera flings herself at Tyler, her voice going up about an octave and a half in the process. He's her first real boyfriend. Rose lets her make her own mistakes.

Royce comes up beside her, dressed down, black hair mussed. "I didn't think you existed outside of Russian Lit."

She thinks that maybe Vera made up the whole thing just to get her to come out tonight. Very on-brand, for Rose that is. Maybe after over a decade of friendship, Vera's finally picking up a few things. It's about damn time. Where was this in high school where it would have mattered?

He holds out a plastic cup. "Wanna drink?"

She starts to refuse it, but across the room, she catches a glimpse of Vera gulping her own drink. When did she lose track of her best friend like this? When had Vera become the outgoing one? That's not how it works. Vera should be following her lead, not the other way around.

Rose takes the cup from Royce and slams it back. Whatever it is, she hates it. And she hates Vera for suddenly turning into what she's always wanted her to be. Competition.

"Whoa," Royce says, eyeing her. "You don't mess around, do you?"

Rose smiles but only because she doesn't know what else to do. Vera would. This is her world, apparently.

…

Bella leans forward in her chair. It's such a simple scene at face value, but the numbers are flying. JEALOUS. ALCOHOL. MEN. GIRL. MUSIC. HOUSE. HALLWAY. BATHROOM. MIRROR.

"You're okay," 7 says to her reflection, her blue eyes flick up. Bella feels a twinge. "You're better than her. You don't need to drink everything he hands you just to prove that."

It's a good resolve, but it breaks down just as hastily as she stacked it up. The guy, Royce, plies her with drinks, and a few hours later, she's gone, disappeared away and DANCING with the girl she called V. In a haze, their heads are together. V closes her eyes and smiles brightly, wildly. 7 has her hands on her thin neck, hidden in her frizzing dark curls. She laughs, a low rumble of a thing. V's skin hums against hers.

More people showed up earlier or maybe a bunch of people left, but the music is loud, and 7's world blurs. Bella only counted a few drinks, but how much of this memory could possibly be reliable?

The guy steps in, peeling her off of V. 7 leans into him like a brick wall and laughs about something lost in the bassline. She's swaying on her feet or maybe that's his idea of dancing but she's loose and laughing and the lights are dim and Royce sticks to her like a SHADOW.

Vera stumbles into her boyfriend, and they kiss twice, but she misses his mouth both times.

Something glass breaks. 7 grabs the collar of Royce's shirt and kisses him. And she does it right. He smiles and his eyes flash and the whole world darkens a little. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to him.

"This party blows," he says, grinning wolfishly. "Let's get out of here."

END OF PART ONE

The screen goes black, and Bella pushes her chair away, unsettled. It seemed so innocent- just a girl going to a college party with her friend and maybe underestimating the alcohol a little bit. It could've been a day-two memory, but it's not. It's part one of the entire reason 7 is here. And she was leaving the party with that boy. Bella doesn't have to be a Project S analyst to know where this is going. Do the math.  _Men, alcohol, second location._

Angela comes around and puts a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay," she says. "It's almost over for her. Forever."

.

On the drive home, she can't stop thinking about 7 and the way that boy had looked at her. It struck her wrong, but it was supposed to.

Maybe she just thinks she knows too much, and really 7 just met a boy she liked at a party and things got out of hand. It could be anything.

But it won't be. There's only one thing it can be. And it will be.

At home, she falls asleep on the couch still thinking about the way 7's hands had squeezed around her friend's neck.

…

…

…

**DAY 4**

.

Bella hands Charlie another cup of tea. It's the middle of the night- two AM maybe, but he won't go to sleep. He keeps pacing the halls.

"I need exercise," he tells her. "If I don't exercise properly, my heart will fail, and I'll die. You don't want me to die, do you?"

So she lets him pace.

"Billy called again yesterday. Wants to go fishing."

"That's fine," Charlie says, never once looking away from the muted TV as he walks. "He'll have to go alone."

She sighs. He's grey and gone, and he has been for years. He doesn't even look at her anymore, and there's nothing she or even CriaTech can do about it.

In high school, they packed into buses and made the short trip up the hill to the lab.  _This is the future_ , the guide had told them. Back then, she'd been skeptical, it just didn't seem possible that one day, thousands of people were dying from cancer and Alzheimer's and everything, everything and the next, everyone was cured. Just like that. Miracle science. Aliens. Magic.

But after the day Charlie collapsed at work, he never really got up again. It was around then when Bella forced herself to start believing. The new frontier, the human brain. They could make injured soldiers walk again, but could they fix her father's mind?

…

Up the hill and two floors down, Rosalie sits upright on her cot, shivering. Sleep still grips her around the edges. She'd shot awake again and forgotten the trial, her surroundings.

There isn't a mirror in her room, so her flurried words are only met with darkness.

"It's okay. You're fine. You're halfway there," she says. "It's going to work. She said it's going to work." She rubs over the scar on her palm, the thin white diagonal. "It's okay."

There's a light knock on the door. She balks but gets up and scans her number. The door opens with a loud whoosh that seems to echo in the stillness of the early morning. Light floods in from the hall, casting a stripe across her floor.

It's 6, standing there with a hand on her hip and the other against the door frame. She looks half asleep and a little annoyed. "I can hear you," she says, voice like gravel. "One door down, remember?"

She covers her face for a moment before nodding. "Sorry."

"Are you alright? You sounded… I dunno. Upset?"

"I'm okay," she says.

"Yeah, I know. You said it like a million times. Not that I was convinced or anything. Maybe you should work on that a little bit. I guess that's why you're here in the first place, huh?"

"I guess."

6 hugs herself against the chill in the hall. She twists back and forth on her feet, her dark curls swinging with the movement."It's fucking cold in here! Do you think that's part of it? The trial, I mean?"

Rose frowns and El raises an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Sorry. You just remind me of someone."

…

Bella rides the elevator up five floors on three shaky hours of sleep. She's a few minutes late again, and by the time she gets to her computer, half the analysts have already started.

She sinks into her chair and rubs her eyes, taking just a few more semi-peaceful seconds before starting the program. The screen glows at her. She's never faced reluctance like this before in her two years on Five.

INTEGRAL MEMORY PART 2

WARNING: ADVERSE/PRIVATIVE

BEGIN

…

Royce's father's apartment is only a few blocks away. They take the stairs because the elevator plunged into the basement cement last week. Their jumbled voices and laughter echo in the concrete stairwell.

Rosalie grips the cold metal banister and leans into Royce. She only had a few drinks, but Royce has two noses and the stairs keep shrinking away from her feet. Vera is right behind her talking too fast. No one's listening to her.

The apartment is plain. There's only a couch, a lamp, and a TV set up on a cardboard box in the living room, but the fridge is stocked with beer, and the couch is good enough for Rose right now anyway. Even the floor would be enough.

Vera is going on and on about something and at this point, she's just a shrill noise in the background that won't go away. She's talking and talking and touching Rose's arm and grabbing her hand, and everyone is just staring at her. Even Tyler looks about ready to lock her out in the hall.

"Would you  _shut up_  for like five minutes, V?" Rose snaps as she settles onto the couch beside Royce.

Vera presses her lips together and her eyes widen and she looks just like she did when they were eleven years old, cutting their hands and pledging themselves to each other for eternity. Her bottom lip quivers and Rose feels a tug in two directions. She chooses one.

"I'm not usually such a lightweight," she mumbles into Royce's neck.

His eyes glint and he tightens his arm around her shoulders. "Maybe you should sleep it off. I'll show you the bedroom."

…

Bella shudders. She wants to stop the simulation, ride the elevator down seven floors, and smash the hell out of the machine that's making her watch this. And making 7 relive it.

…

The bed is cold. The window is open, and it's freezing outside.

"I'll keep you warm," he says, and Rose laughs.

"Go have fun. I'll be like… an hour. Go," she slurs, but he stays. And there's a weight on her chest, pressing her ribs, and she can't breathe.

"Royce," she tries but her voice isn't a voice at all. He holds her arm down, he eclipses the light.

It's freezing in the room. She left the window open. Why'd she do that?

The bedroom door opens. "Hey, don't mind me, I'm just going to the-" Vera freezes when she sees them. Her mouth gapes like a fish, and then she just shrieks. "Hey! What the fuck?"

Royce curses. "Tyler, get her out of here!"

Vera launches at him.

She's screaming and spitting. She's clawing at Royce. "Get off of her! You fucking bastard! Rose!" she screeches, her face is red. Rose thinks she might pass out.

One of them shoves her. Hard. Vera stumbles backward into the bathroom. Her head cracks sickeningly against the sink. She doesn't get up.

"Oh  _shit._ "

"What the fuck did you do?"

"I don't know man, I just… I just pushed her."

Rose shoves Royce away and scrambles off the bed, stumbling. She rushes to the bathroom and drops to the floor beside her friend. Blood gushes from her head, soaks her hair, seeps into the cracks in the tile. Bright fucking red. There's too much blood. Her neck doesn't look right.

"Vera. C'mon, V. Wake up, please. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I didn't mean to."

She shakes her, but she's not moving. She's not breathing. The walls are bending. Rose can't move. Can't breathe. It's not going to end. She's not waking up. The bedroom is empty now except for Tyler who's just standing there uselessly with his hands over his mouth and Royce, still on the bed, gaping.

"Vera,  _please._ "

Her lungs seize up. She falls back against the wall. The blood keeps on spilling and it's screaming in her ears and no matter how many times she blinks, nothing changes.

She gets up, sputtering, tracking blood all over the floor. Royce's eyes flash, and he's on his feet in an instant.

"We have to do something. We have to call the police!" She grabs at the fabric of Royce's shirt, smearing blood all over him. "Royce, please-"

His eyes are dark and angry. His jaw clenches, sharp. He wraps his hands around her throat and slams her against the wall. His friends all ran away. Light dances behind her eyes.

"You better keep your fucking mouth shut."

…

Bella rips her eyes away. A boring one? Guilt and rage flood her, and her stomach turns wretchedly. She could throw up. Angela was right. Run-of-the-mill doesn't exist here.

The audio pops, and she looks up at the monitor. This time it isn't the edges or corners, the room itself is shrinking. The boys are back in the room and frozen in place, glitching.

The stream of digits flickers twice before speeding up exponentially. Bella bolts up in her chair. The walls melt away, the room is coming apart.

"Shit."

The numbers change direction and slow down. Huge chunks are missing. Entire minutes are just gone. But the room comes back together, Royce and his friends regain movement. There's no girl dead on the floor of the bathroom, the blood's gone. 7 is back on the bed, trapped.

"Oh my god." Bella stands, earbuds ripping out of her ears, her chair slams into the wall of the cubicle.

"Bella?" Angela says. She looks up, worried.

"Call- Call downstairs. Get Dr. Cullen."

"What? Why?"

"Her memory. It's- I don't know, it's corrupted. The program, it's-"

"Bella, what the hell is going on?"

"It's rewriting itself."

…

…

…

Back in Rochester, she had a sprawling apartment to herself, a great job in a publi- ERROR 707 MEMORY CORRUPTION

Back in Rochester- ERROR 707 MEMORY CORRUPTION

-everyone she had ever [CORRUPTED] within a few miles of her.

Back in Rochester, she was sleeping her last night in a seedy motel. She'd run out of money days ago since she rejected her trust and was waiting until the desk clerk noticed and called the police.

ERROR_ERROR -wrapped his hands around her throat and slammed her against the wall. His friends [CORRUPTED]-

She'd dropped out of college and didn't work well with others.

_What's wrong, Rose?_

_Nothing. NOTHING._

Rose looks up now, pushed in the current of swaying bodies. She can't see straight. The music pulses. She can barely stand.

Bodies. There are bodies everywhere here, touching her, touching everything, shifting as time drags by. She shoves them but they don't move. There are hands on her, around her arms, yanking her from the crowd.

Vera. The name builds in her head, over the voices, over the music. The hands around her arms tighten and pull her relentlessly across the floor. The crowd parts for them. Vera will save her this time. That's what she did that night and Rose just forgot. She didn't throw her to the wolves. She fought them, all of them.

"Wait. Vera!" she says, looking around frantically, trying to remember the last place she saw her friend.

But Vera's right next to her, smiling. Catlike. The men laugh. Vera has Rose's wrist in her hand, nails digging harshly into the skin.

She's helping them.

…

…

…

**DAY 5 - 2:32AM**

.

Long past midnight, Dr. Cullen stares at 7's data. She was so  _normal_ , on all fronts, the perfect candidate. Open and shut. His team is scattered around the conference table, a mess of data sprawled out in front of them.

"We're losing time," Dr. Denali says from behind his laptop. "She's stable. For now. What do you wanna do, Carlisle? We've tried everything."

"Not everything," Esme says, startling half the room. It isn't like her to speak up like this. She does her best work behind the scenes when people don't even realize it. "We can duplicate her pathway and-"

Eleazar waves her off. "What you're suggesting is insane. It's fringe science at best. The board would pull the plug on us tomorrow morning."

"Let's just hear her out," Carlisle says.

"You can't seriously be considering this. Dr. Cullen-"

"What other options do we have, Eleazar?"

Dr. Denali crosses his arms over his chest. "You're talking about dropping a blind man into a minefield. Who could you possibly send in?"

"Who else?" Esme says, pointing to subject 7's original file. "Her analyst."

.

Bella Swan, is a second-year analyst, the former police chief's daughter, and an absolute mess when she answers the door.

Carlisle brought Esme along because they need a yes from her, and Dr. Platt has a way of getting people to agree to follow her into hell.

Bella looks hesitant to invite them inside, but she does it anyway. The living room is messy and the TV is on loud enough to make him wince.

"Sorry," she mutters and shuts it off. She looks between the two of them- her boss and her boss' boss. "What, uh. I don't mean to be rude, but it's three AM, and I have to go to work tomorrow. You know, for you."

There isn't really a point in prefacing it or trying to delay it any longer. They need her help. It's as simple as that.

"As you know, 7's data has suffered significant corruption. She's stable, but she's… Well…" Carlisle scratches the back of his head, looking for a better way to put it, but there really isn't one. "She's trapped. She's stuck in the simulation."

"Can't you just… I don't know, yank her out of there?"

Carlisle shakes his head solemnly. "You see, in order to ultimately erase these memories, we first had to make them as vivid and believable- as  _real_ \- as possible. You can only get so far by remembering pieces of things on your own."

"But-"

"The Submergence implant fuses with the central nervous system and allows the AI to collect the data while also recreating the memories and filling in the holes. It makes it virtually impossible for the brain to distinguish between the real world and the simulation. The way it's integrated into the nervous system- pulling her out and breaking that connection could cause massive brain damage."

Bella presses her hand to her forehead. "Okay. She's stuck. But what does that have to do with me?"

Esme squeezes his arm. He's grateful she's here.

"You know her memories better than anyone," Esme says, "You know what's real for her. You'll be able to spot the corruption. All you have to do is go in and find her."

"In? As in… into the corrupted simulation?" she asks flatly. "How?"

"We'll fit you with an implant and filter 7's data through yours," Carlisle says.

"Is that safe?"

The doctors exchange a look. Esme raises an eyebrow as if to say,  _Well, are you going to tell her?_

Carlisle clears his throat. "Theoretically-"

"It's never been done before has it?" Bella says, sighing, asked to do the one thing that even the miracle scientists have no clue about. "I want to help her, but…" She spares a glance over her shoulder at a closed door. "My dad."

Esme steps in. "Please, Bella. We don't have much time. I'll have a nurse sent over in the morning. He'll be in good hands, you have my word."

Bella looks at her father's door again. Time drags relentlessly before she finally nods once. "Okay," she says.

…

Back on sub-basement floor number two, Bella shivers in her pajamas under the bright fluorescent lights. She's a fifth-floor. Not important.

"Drink this," Dr. Cullen says, pushing toward her a plastic cup with a thick purplish liquid inside. She throws it back and blanches at the overly metallic taste. "It'll help keep you under."

"So am I gonna need to-" A sharp sting in the back of her neck shreds the rest of her words.

Dr. Platt steps out from behind her with an injection gun big enough to make her dizzy. "Sorry," she says. "It's easier if you're distracted."

Bella rubs the back of her neck, already feeling sluggish from the purple tar.

"I should warn you," Dr. Cullen says, "it will seem very real, and it will be difficult to remember what your purpose is once you're inside."

"Wait," Bella says, words slurring. "What do I do when I find her?"

"Wake up."


	3. Chapter 3

**DAY 5 - 5:57AM**

.

Bella spins around so quickly, she nearly knocks herself out on the bedpost. She grabs it to steady herself and lets out a collecting breath. Forehead to the polished wood, she tightens her grip and sure enough, it's real.

"No way," she mutters, stepping back. She touches the top of the dresser, swipes a finger through the thin layer of dust. It's  _real_. It's all around her, plain as day.

She lingers in the room only long enough to get past the eerie realness of it, the specific lived-in feel. She's only seen it on a small screen almost too grainy to matter, but now she's standing in the middle of it, existing within it.

Bella makes her way down the stairs and to the right- a path she memorized from following 7's memories. She finds the living room, the grand fireplace, the two boys before it playing loudly. But there's no one else.

Dr. Cullen had said they would try to drop her into the baseline memory, but there were no guarantees. Looking around, this one looks pretty intact, maybe even untouched by the corruption.

One of the boys looks up and sees her. "Who are you?" he says, though he doesn't seem surprised.

"Uh, I'm Bella," she says, inching into the room. It's dark and only lit by the fire, and apart from the three of them, the house is silent.

The other boy looks up and rolls his eyes. "If you're looking for Rose, she's not here right now."

Rose. A name for the number. Bella tucks it away. "Do you know where she is?"

The fire pops, and then again and again and Bella realizes that it isn't the fire at all. It's the boy on the right, the one with the red car. He's glowing, just like she thought on day one.

"She's with Vera," the glowing one says. They both seem oblivious to the sheer amount of light coming from him that just keeps growing and growing until it fills the room. Bella shields her eyes.

When she lowers her hand again, the light is gone and so are the boys, and the fire, and the house. It's a new memory. It's bright. Green and gold confetti against the stark blue sky. Graduation caps rain down and Bella is lost in the crowd.

She pushes her way out of the mass of people, only to have the whole scene change in the blink of an eye. It occurs to her then that this might be harder than she thought.

…

Rosalie presses the blade into her hand. A tiny drop of blood sprouts from the puncture. She drags it the rest of the way and shoves it in Vera's face.

"Look at this," she says. " _Look_  at it."

Vera stumbles backward into the little table her father had built for them. Their drawings flutter to the ground, the single candle lighting the treehouse topples over and the paper ignites. The whole place goes up in flames like it's soaked in kerosene.

Rosalie falls to the floor, palm bleeding all over the dirty floorboards, dark red in the grain of the wood. She screws her eyes shut.

When she opens them again, the walls are still filing into place. The scene settles, and she's in Vera's bedroom, lying on her bed and flipping through a magazine while Vera takes off her makeup in the bathroom.

Vera pokes her head out, face scrubbed, hair pulled back, she smiles. "It's been forever since you slept over. I was starting to think college was making you too cool for me."

Rose scoffs. "It's not as great as you think. You'll figure that out next year."

"I doubt it, since we're going to be together 24/7."

"What do you mean?"

Vera shifts on her socked feet, looking down. "I got in. I'm going to Presley-Banting next year."

Since Rose graduated last year, Vera had taken over all her old roles. Not her first choice of a successor, but then again, who else but Vera to follow exactly in her footsteps? Just like she has been since the day they met.

"You… I thought you were set on Connecticut."

"I changed my mind," she says, flushing. "Now we can-"

"I can't believe you- Why didn't you talk to me about this?" Rose asks, incredulous.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you'd be happy." Her smile fades. "Are you mad?"

Rose shoves the magazine away. "Well, I don't know, V. Fuck. I just wanted  _one_  thing that I didn't have to share with you for once in my life. Is that too much to ask?"

"I'm- I'm sorry," Vera says, putting her face into her hands. She turns away, but Rose can see her shoulders shaking anyway. She's crying. This was supposed to be fun.

…

Downstairs, Vera's mother answers the door to a nerve-wracked Bella who is quickly figuring out that traveling between memories is like a shot in the dark, and she doesn't know half of what she thought she did. She's been to a half dozen 7-less football games, a party at a yacht club that she was  _severely_  undressed for, and several family dinners where she had to explain to the Hales that she was a school friend of their daughter's. Imagine their surprise when they found out their 8-year-old daughter had a grown-up friend coming to visit her at her family's vacation cabin in Colorado.

Vera's mother lets her in, but only because she looks unsuspiciously close enough in age this time for it not to start something.

"Third door on the left," she calls as Bella climbs the stairs. She counts the doors and stops in front of Vera's room. She mentally goes over what she's going to say before reaching for the doorknob, only the entire door disintegrates beneath her hand. The walls follow and Bella sighs.

"Again, really?"

…

The moonlight comes in through the window, casting a patch of silver light on the floor. Rose and Vera lie side by side in it, ten years old and testing for magic.

Vera likes this kind of stuff. Candles and pretty rocks and branches bent a certain way. Rose never  _feels_  anything, but she keeps an eye out just in case.

"Do you ever think about infinity?" Vera whispers.

"What? Like numbers?" A nod. "No, never."

Vera laughs, and Rose has to cover her mouth so she won't wake her parents up. They were supposed to be asleep hours ago.

"Okay," she says. "Just think about this. Every number in the universe, every grain of sand or teeny tiny water molecule, all of it, and it ends at this huge wall at the end of space."

Rose shrugs. "I guess."

Vera reaches up and grabs at the open air, hand shining pale in the moonlight. She closes her hands into fists and flicks them open like an explosion. "It all ends at a wall, but…"

"What's behind the wall?" Rose asks, and Vera smiles wickedly.

"I knew you had it in you." Vera sits up and holds her arms out wide. "The world is so big, Rose. And one day, I'm gonna find something no one's ever seen before, and I'm gonna name it after myself. Then I'm gonna find another and name it after you."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're my best friend, and that's what friends do."

…

Bella bounces her leg and flips through the pages of her book over and over as she waits in the stiff chair in the waiting room. Wait, that's not right. This is  _her_ memory. Wasn't she supposed to be looking for someone?

She's waiting for a doctor to tell her what she already knows, but the nerves are still there, still firing rapidly. Fight or flight or just sit there and worry.

And when the doctor comes out she still says it.

"What's wrong with him?"

The doctor flips the same pages on her clipboard and hugs it to her chest just like Bella remembers. She clears her throat, looks apologetic, and only slightly baffled.

"Nothing."

It's one thing to be blindsided and another to know it's coming, but it does nothing to dig the pit from her stomach, it's still a blow to the back of the head. Because nothing has changed at all. Today was just the first day Charlie stopped. Stopped going to work, stopped going fishing, stopped seeing Billy, stopped going outside, stopped talking to her. Everything.

It was the day her father disappeared and never came back.

…

Rose sits on the couch, watching her brothers in front of the hearth. Kieran had begged her to come downstairs so he could show her the new model car he'd built and painted himself.

With nearly a decade between them, she feels guilty for not spending much time with them over the past few years.

"Rose! Look," Kieran says, proudly holding up the shiny red car. He hands it to her and she holds it in her hands, pretending to inspect it closely. It looks about as perfect as the picture on the package torn open on the kitchen counter.

"Wow. You did this all by yourself?"

He nods and stands up a little straighter. "Yep."

"You did  _not_ ," Evan says from the floor. "I helped. I did most of it. He just painted it."

Kieran's face crumples. "He's lying!"

Rose hands him back the car and ruffles his messy hair. "It looks great, you two. I'm glad you worked together."

"We wouldn't have to if you were ever home," Evan sulks. He's ten now. It means something when she's gone. With Kieran, he's just so happy to see her, he forgets about all the family dinners she missed for cheer practice, all the baseball games she couldn't make it to on the weekends because of student government.

"I'm here now," she offers. "Why don't you show me how it works?"

Kieran laughs and runs a hand over his face, tired. "Rose! It doesn't  _do_  anything! It's just for looking."

"Show me anyway."

He shrugs. "Ookay."

Rose watches them play for a while. Her mother comes by with the laundry and touches their heads as she passes, humming something Rose can't make out. The fire crackles. It's nice.

"Let me try," Evan says, grabbing the model car.

"No! You don't do it right! I'm showing Rose."

"Just lemme see it. For like five seconds."

"No!"

Rose's phone vibrates. It's Vera asking her why she isn't at Zach's party. V doesn't like going places alone. Rose texts her to come over instead before tossing her phone aside.

The moment she looks up, Evan lurches forward and shoves Kieran hard in the chest. Kieran topples over and hits his head on the wood floor.

"Hey," she says, and they both look up. Kieran sits up and rubs the back of his head. "Stop it, Evan. Be-"

A bright flash of light and a loud thud behind the couch cut her off. "Ow, not again," a voice says. Rose startles and peers over the back of the couch. She's braced for the worst, but really, it's just a girl sprawled out on the ground with a hand pressed to her forehead. She came out of thin air.

She grabs the back of the couch and uses it to haul herself to her feet. Rose just stares at her as she looks around, getting her bearings.

She finally settles on Rose, and it takes a second, but  _something_  clicks. "Oh," she says, "there you are."

"Hi, Bella!" Evan says, pushing the cars away. He stands up and waves. Kieran, still rubbing the bump on the back of his head, joins him, though less enthusiastically.

"Hey, Evan," she says. "Kieran."

Rose looks back and forth between them, but for the life of her, she can't remember this girl. And she would too because she's a  _mess_. Her clothes are too big and her dark hair is wild, but she's holding back a smile like she's trying to be polite and Rose is just left with nothing.

"How do you guys know her?"

"She's your friend, isn't she?" Evan says, brows knit. "She's always, always,  _always_  looking for you, but you're never here."

She knows it's meant to be one of Evan's brick-subtle jabs, but she's too stuck on this stranger for it to hit home just yet.

"Who are you?"

She holds out her hand. "I'm your analyst."

Rose takes it, and it doesn't take long after that for the simulation to fill with light and knock them both out cold.

…

ERROR 707: ARCHIVE DATA CORRUPTED

INBOUND DATA REWRITING_

ATTEMPTING REPAIR. PLEASE WAIT...

…

Bella wakes up on the couch. The TV is blasting another CriaTech commercial. The ceiling fan is whirring noisily above her, and Charlie's door is closed.

She checks the time on her phone and springs up.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit-"

"What's wrong?" a soft voice calls from the top of the stairs.

Bella freezes and looks up. She nearly collapses back on the couch when she sees her. It's 7. Not her reflection in the mirror when she's talking to herself. Not her arms from her own point of view, but  _her_. Complete. Separate.

Bella swallows. She's beautiful, and she's coming down the stairs with Bella's work tablet and a cup of coffee dressed in Bella's old blue robe.

She glances at the TV, the shiny CriaTech logo. The simulation. Right. She's seen her before. It should be easier to remember, but it isn't. Dr. Cullen was right, it's  _incredibly_  real.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, and now you're just… in my house."

7 gives her a funny look. "What are you going on about?" She doesn't wait for an answer before brushing by her. She touches Bella's arm as she moves past.

"Where's Charlie?"

7 waves her hand. "Oh, I don't know, really. He left early this morning. I think he's out fishing with Billy, but your guess is as good as mine."

"Fishing?" Bella mutters. Charlie doesn't go fishing. He doesn't even go outside.

Bella watches her move into the kitchen. She props the tablet up on the counter and starts digging through the cabinets. She's… cooking.

_Wait, what do I do when I find her?_

_Wake up._

Bella grabs her arm, and 7 stops to look at her hand. She smiles. "What are you doing? I have to finish making this or you'll be late."

She doesn't know what to say. There's no guidebook or string of serial numbers to tell her what's right and wrong. She's just floating around in a glitching simulation with no idea which way is up.

"7," she tries. "We need to get out of here."

"Seven?" she says, still smiling but clearly lost. "Bella? Are you okay?"

Bella bristles. "How do you know my name?"

7 stills and the lights flicker. The house groans on its foundation, the walls darken. She blinks a few times, blue eyes clear, and for a split second, Bella thinks she comes out of it, but just as quickly, she shakes her head and the smile is back.

She reaches up and touches Bella's face. It's soft and familiar and it has Bella gripping the countertop just to stay rooted in the glitching memory. She looks at 7's eyes, the gold length of her hair against the bathrobe, her fingertips as she takes her hand away. It's like they've done this a million times, she just can't remember.

Charlie coughs in his room, and 7's eyes flash. Her head snaps up.

"I knew he wasn't fishing," Bella says. She turns and heads over to say good morning.

"No, wait," 7 says, grabbing her hand. "I think I need your help with this recipe. You know I'm not very good in the kitchen."

"Okay, let me just check on Charlie first-"

"No!" 7 pulls her arm. "I mean, not yet. Let him rest."

"What's your problem?" Bella tugs her arm free and grabs the doorknob. "I don't know you!"

"Don't go in there!" 7's voice rises as the door creaks open, but before she can see Charlie, 7 is on her, arms wrapped around her, vice-like.

The walls bend and ripple with distortion. The room fills with white or maybe everything just disappears and they're falling through the floor or what used to be the floor.

Bella shuts her eyes and braces for impact.

But it never comes.

…

Rosalie finds out about Project S by sheer chance. The people in the motel room next to hers keep the TV on all night, and at around 3AM every morning, a short commercial plays.

_Memories aren't who you are. Be who you can be, not who you were. CriaTech's Project S. Enroll in a trial today!_

Rose hears it for weeks. Every morning at 3AM, reliable as clockwork. Night after night, it's there for her even when Evan doesn't write her back and Kieran runs from the phone when she calls.  _Memories aren't who you are._

Something in the mystical background music makes the decision for her long before her savings drain and the motel manager comes knocking. Long before she slips out in the middle of the night, gone in an instant. Long before she shows up in Washington two months later, not a cent left to her, not a single reason to keep going.

The CriaTech orderlies take one look at her and mumble about how they've seen worse. And as she rides the elevator down to sub-basement floor number two, she knows she's come to the right place.

…

REPAIR INCOMPLETE: ARCHIVE DATA LOST

INSUFFICIENT DATA_

RUNNING PREDICTIVE ALGORITHM

PLEASE WAIT…

…

 **#321-482009**   **SICK**

.

Bella bounces her leg and flicks through the pages of her book over and over as she waits in the stiff chair in the waiting room. 7 rests her head against her shoulder and places a hand over Bella's to still her. She links their fingers.

"It'll be okay," she whispers.

Bella takes in a breath but it's serrated as it comes in, a short series of gasps.

"Hey, hey," 7 says softly. "I know you're scared for him, but he's going to be alright."

Bella wants to leave, 7 keeps her grounded. She buries her face in her golden hair. 7 hugs her. She doesn't know what she would do without her.

"What's wrong with him?" she asks, squeezing 7's hand.

The doctor sighs. "Nothing."

.

At home, Charlie sits at the table with 7. Bella stands in the kitchen, watching them. The whole house is so dull and lifeless by now, but 7 doesn't seem to notice. All the light in the world shines for her, but she spends her days cooped up in this house, sitting with Charlie, reading to him, calming him down.

Charlie lifts his coffee and peers into the mug with disdain. "I can't drink this. My blood pressure."

7 puts a hand on his forearm. "Your blood pressure's fine, Charlie. The doctor said so. It's alright."

Charlie shrugs and takes a drink. He grunts neutrally, and that's the end of that.

.

At night, 7 braids her hair at the edge of the bed. Bella comes home late, eyes burning from the constant numbers. She watches 7's fingers move deftly through her hair.

"Are you happy?" Bella asks weakly.

"Of course I am."

…

**#549-219047 FATHER**

.

In Arizona, the heat is sweltering. Rose stands in the kitchen holding a glass of ice water against her cheek while Bella talks on the phone with her semi-estranged father. Rose has never met Charlie, but he seems to be about as awkward on the phone as she is.

Out in the living room, Renee and Phil are watching a CriaTech documentary about the revolutionary advancements in sports science at full volume. She'd thought meeting Bella's parents would be a little more challenging, but the whole thing took about ten minutes- most of which was taken up by Renee pulling out the family scrapbooks and showing her baby Bella while Phil was attempting to talk her through last year's Spring Training at the same time. Smile and nod, Bella had told her over and over on the flight from New York, and she was right.

Rose leans against the counter. Bella touches her fingertips and gives her a small smile. It's too hot for anything else.

…

**#781-446289 SAINT**

.

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not. Go. We'll be fine."

Bella grabs her raincoat off the rack but hesitates near the window. It's pouring outside and twice as cold as it looks. "It's just- I know this isn't what you were expecting when I asked you to come up here with me."

"I'm happy here."

"I- You deserve more. It's not going to take much longer, I promise."

7 straightens her jacket and runs her hands down the sleeves. Her smile is faint, and Bella only catches it as it fades. "It'll take as long as it takes, and I'm okay with that, really. I don't mind staying with your dad. We get along."

Bella looks over 7's shoulder at Charlie picking at his breakfast. She knows it's an upward struggle. 7's just some kind of saint for never once complaining. They couldn't afford the CriaTech nurse anymore, even with the employee plan.

"I'm sorry," Bella says.

"You're doing what you need to do. Don't worry about it." 7 kisses her cheek and pushes her packed lunch into her hands. "Now get going. You'll be late."

…

**#238-097418 BARE**

.

"What did you think of me when we met?" Rose asks, tracing Bella's shoulder blades. She presses her lips to the nape of her neck and smiles as Bella's shoulders raise in response.

"Hmm," Bella hums. "I don't remember meeting you."

Rose runs her fingers through the dark length of her hair, pausing midway as it occurs to her. "That's funny… Neither do I."

…

**#399-015257 BLOOD**

.

7 pulls her father's knife from the floor and turns it in her palms. It's late. Their mothers think they're asleep. She unfolds the old blade.

Vera backs away, clinging to Bella. A shudder runs through her.

"We're best friends right?"

…

**#471-774300 WATER**

.

She counts the seconds some days. It makes her feel a touch deranged, but she does it anyway. Out loud. She embraces it. Charlie only glances at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the muted TV. He's used to it by now.

In the mirror, she notices she looks different these days. It was hard to locate at first, like reading through double refraction, but it's since fallen into place.

She is unhappy  _by choice_.

Well, mostly unhappy. Happy because Bella loves and understands her. Mostly unhappy because she hates Forks. She'd burn the whole town to the ground if it  _ever_  stopped raining long enough to light the match, but it doesn't. Charlie's not so bad, but he's not so great company either.

She sighs, looking away from herself. She's overreacting. It's not terrible here at all. Everyone is kind and helpful and they know when to stay out of the way, but it doesn't stop her from getting into these  _moods_ where she can't tell if she wants to tear the house apart one floorboard at a time or if it's just because she's lonely.

Usually, she can figure it out within two seconds after Bella gets in from work, but never a moment sooner. She's turned it into a kind of game by now. Back in New York, she knew what she wanted at every turn, but here?

On the other side of the room, Bella turns her key in the lock. Rose grins, her blood boiling like rage, like fury, like the half second before exacting revenge. She surges across the room, catching Bella off guard, and with a hand on her waist, and the other flat against the door, she kisses her fervently, ferociously.

Then she pulls away, the restlessness gone, melted away, her blood quiets, her heart slows. Bella smiles dreamily and pushes her hair from her cheek. Rose catches her hand and holds it.

"Hello to you, too."

…

**#890-090002 FLOAT**

.

Sometimes she finds her like this- floating around upstairs like a ghost, wine glass in hand humming something that doesn't exist. She gets nervous when it's dark like this. But Charlie doesn't mind storms much. In fact, Bella thinks it's the only time he gets enough sleep.

The storm knocked out the power, but 7 doesn't like candles. So Bella had gone down to the garage in complete darkness just to dig out some of Charlie's old camping lanterns. It was a miracle they still worked under the film of cobwebs and two-year-old dust.

By the time she lugs them upstairs, 7's a glass deep and murmuring to herself like she always does when she thinks Bella's still asleep in the morning.

Bella tries to make enough noise coming in, but 7 still startles when she places a lantern on the dresser behind her.

"It's just me," Bella says, dusting her hands off on her jeans. She climbs onto the bed beside her. "You okay?"

7 nods and twists the end of her braid. "Thanks for going down there."

"What'd you do today?"

"I read mostly. Your dad has a really… specific taste in books."

Bella shakes her head, amused. "Yeah, he likes health studies. He thinks there's a cure or something at the bottom of the discount junk science bin at the bookstore."

"There might be."

"I doubt it. It's just stuff like drawing a circle around your bed with a gap in it so the sickness can escape while you're sleeping. Or drinking coffee with garlic in it. It doesn't work."

7 shrugs one shoulder. "Maybe not, but it's good for him to believe in something."

"I just don't want him to get any false hope, you know? He gets so upset sometimes."

"I know," she says, leaning into Bella's side. The room goes quiet, save for the rain still pouring on the roof. And Bella has to sigh because it's nice, but she knows 7 misses New York, and the constant rain and drear aren't doing anything to help her headaches or the severity of the reassurances she whispers  _at_  herself in the mirror. Bella squeezes her hand, but when she looks up, 7's smiling brightly- wickedly, almost.

"What?"

"Do you ever think about infinity?"

"All the time."

…

**#005-781492 FIRE**

.

Rose twists Vera's black hair around her finger. She thinks it looks better curled. Less mousy, she says. Her parents still call her Mouse and she hates it. Rose indulges her- even  _if_  she still comes off a little rodent-esque at times.

Bella comes into the bedroom, socks sliding on the wood floor. She grabs the dresser to steady herself, not before knocking over a picture frame. She  _is_  Bella, after all. She smiles sheepishly and rights it. "Sorry."

Vera chews her thumbnail. She catches Rose's eyes in the mirror, conveying her nerves. She doesn't know how to do anything by herself, and it's all over her face. She gets anxious in crowds and unfamiliar places. Maybe that's why they work so well together. Rose attracts the attention and Vera hides safely behind her. But not tonight. Tonight's her first  _real_  college party without Rose by her side, and she's in pieces over it.

"Are you sure you guys don't want to come?"

"We have plans," Rose says, reaching back to squeeze Bella's hand. She'll only be in New York for another twenty-four hours before going back up to Dartmouth until November, and Rose doesn't want to waste it on some party Bella wouldn't enjoy.

"You'll be alright, V," Bella says, pulling on one of her curls. It springs up when she releases it. "Tyler's going to be there, right?"

"I guess. But he's gonna want to hang out with his friends, and I always feel kind of… unwanted." She sighs. "Can't I just stay with you guys?"

"You know we love you, V, but I think you need to do this," Rose says.

"Fine." She turns in her chair. "Bella, can you hand me that cardigan?"

As she settles back again, her hair falls over one shoulder, exposing her back. Rose gasps and backs away. Wings of pale, reddish scars mar her shoulder blades and the backs of her arms. She could swear on her life, they weren't there before.

"Rose?" Bella says, touching her arm before wrapping the cardigan around Vera's shoulders.

"What  _happened_ , V?"

"I-I," Vera stares at her wide-eyed, stumbling over her words, floundering. Finally, she frowns, lip quivering, tears streaking her cheeks. "Rose, that's not funny."

"What?"

" _Rose_ ," Bella mutters. "What are you doing?"

Vera grabs her purse, wiping at the corners of her eyes with her sleeves. She looks  _hurt._  "I should go."

Once she's gone, Bella shakes her head. "Why did you do that to her? She hates when people point them out, you of all people should know that."

"I- I don't know-"

The bedroom around them starts to shimmer and wave. The colors darken and shift until they're not in Vera's room at all anymore. They're outside. It's dark, but Vera's treehouse is on fire, a torch against the night sky.

"No, wait," she says, shaking her head. "That's not what happened. I came home from school, and it was gone."

Bella doesn't say anything. Rose looks at her palm, the thin white scar from the night of the blood oath. Vera- she knocked over a candle, but that's not right either. They put it out. Didn't they?

And Rose sees herself in the cut-out window. Eleven years old, crying, looking over the edge.

The ladder hatch. Stupid thing was always getting stuck.

"Just jump!" Vera shouts from inside. "Hurry!"

Rose looks away as her younger self vaults out the window. Vera's still screaming when she hits the ground with a dull thud.

Bella takes her hand and the memory wavers. "You broke your wrist," she says, tracking over the silvery, surgical scar lining the inside of her arm. "Vera… She let you go first. She helped you climb out. You went to get help."

"I don't remember this," she says. "How do you? I didn't know you then."

"You've known me forever. I was there with you… Right?" Bella presses a hand against her forehead and winces. "I- We were all up there together… I think."

"But we weren't." White noise swells inside her head. She shakes herself, but it doesn't go away. It just gets louder and louder until she can't hear anything else.

"Wait, no. That's not right. I- I've never been here before," Bella says. "I'm supposed to find… I- Where's Charlie?"

The scene blinks and distorts, due to change at any second, but Rose doesn't want to leave her. Not like this. Not screaming, trapped in a fire. But she doesn't have a choice. Everything bends and warps and pulls apart around them, and she can't do a damn thing about it.

…

**#998-342618 MEADOW**

.

_CriaTech: a better world, a better you._

Bella pushes through the crowd of drunk college kids. The back of her neck stings from the injection.

Injection?

Dr. Platt…

Bella shakes her head. It doesn't matter. She just needs to find her. Subject 7. Rose.

"There you are," Vera says, pushing her own way through the crowd and linking their arms. "C'mon. We're going to Royce's dad's place."

.

7 clings to her as they climb up the stairs in the back of the apartment building. Vera is talking to Tyler about music or magic or something like that. Whatever it is, she seems to have a lot to say. Bella can see the irritation twitching across 7's face.

"She's just excited," Bella tries.

"I guess."

.

7 has one of her headaches, Bella can tell by the way she's pressing her thumb into the outer ridge of her eye socket. Bella goes into the kitchen and fills a styrofoam cup with water.

"Would you  _shut up_  for like five minutes, V?"

.

"Oh  _shit._ "

"What the fuck did you do?"

"I don't know man, I just… I just pushed her."

Bella clutches the door frame, either that or fall to the floor. She's never seen so much blood in her life.

The walls of the bedroom turn to trees, the floor replaces with tall grass and flowers. The wind swirls around them. Royce and Tyler and the others look around, out of place, in the wrong memory, against their coding. They fizzle in and out, glitching just like everything else. Bella can feel the instability in the air.

The meadow. The first glitch. It has to be. That first day, when she'd sat through the baseline memory- 7's brothers playing by the fire. MEADOW. It didn't make sense back then, and maybe it still doesn't, but they're here and they're not at the same time because the vast sky and the grass flicker like a dying lightbulb, a cheap lamp in a sad motel that dies every time someone slams the door upstairs.

They're back in the apartment. 7 has tracked blood everywhere, she's grabbing Royce's shirt, begging him,  _begging_  him to call the police, but he grabs her and slams her against the wall. She cries out.

"You better keep your fucking mouth shut," Royce spits.

Bella runs to her, but the scene changes too quickly. The world morphs, tall grass grows from the floor of the apartment until she's struggling through it like treading water. She looks up and Royce is gone. Instead, Charlie's right in front of her, dressed in his patrol uniform.

"Hey, Bells," he says, hands resting on his belt. He squints against the sun to see her.

"Dad?"

She hugs him like a magnet, and he hugs her back. He hasn't done that since- She pulls away and looks at him. He's smiling. He's looking right at her. Charlie doesn't do those things. At least, not anymore.

She looks beyond him, up the hill at 7, hugging her brothers on a picnic blanket with her parents. And Vera's there too, twirling around in the sun, black hair flying.

"C'mon, Bella!" Kieran shouts, jumping to get her attention.

Vera runs down the hill to meet her. Her smile lights up her face, she's happy. She's  _alive_. She grabs Bella's hands and pulls her a little. Charlie follows, looking a bit embarrassed.

"We're all waiting," Vera says. Her hands are cold around Bella's. She spins around to jog the rest of the way, and it all comes back in a tidal wave. The back of her blue cardigan is stained dark red, her curled hair is snarled and matted with blood. She's dead.

Bella blinks and she's standing in the bathroom, blood seeping into the grout. She looks up at the group at the top of the hill all laughing and waving at her. And Charlie has color to him. He looks warm. The grey has left his eyebrows and his hair. He's just how she remembers him before she graduated high school and left Forks behind for college. When he used to awkwardly try to slip in ' _I love you_ 's without sounding too overbearing or silly. When Billy and Jake would come by. When he was happy.

"Bella?" 7 calls. She motions her over, glowing like always. All the light in the world. But this  _isn't_  real.  _A better world, a better you. Welcome to Project Submergence._

The fifth floor. Angela. The strings of numbers. Dr. Cullen and Dr. Platt showing up at her house in the middle of the night. How could she possibly have forgotten? It wasn't a long time ago, it was five minutes ago, a few hours, maybe.

Her head is thundering.

"We need to wake up," she says. "We need to get out of here."

"What?" 7 looks up from Evan. "Wake up? And leave them?" She ruffles his hair. He smiles up at her. It's convincing.

"That isn't Evan and you know it."

"Bella?"

" _Rose_."

7 squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. "Stop it. You  _always_  do this."

"What?"

"You ruin it. You bring me out of it," she mutters, letting her brothers run free. The moment they leave the bounds of the picnic blanket, they vanish into thin air, like they never existed at all.

Mr. and Mrs. Hale are frozen, still in mid-conversation. 7 looks at them fondly.

"Everything fell apart after it happened. Did you know I tried to stay in school? I wanted my life back, but it just kept getting worse. Two months after that night, my parents died and my brothers got sent away. I dropped out right before the funeral. I couldn't recover. Everything just kept stacking up. I couldn't fucking deal, Bella… But here…" She motions around at the unstable meadow, the angry, dying simulation. The glint in her eyes is alarming. "You're here. My whole life is in here, and it stops where I want it to stop."

Some final piece clicks, and the realization comes in a physical jolt. Her fingertips burn with it. "You didn't come here to forget, did you?"

"What does it matter?"

"You're stuck here because you want to be."

The picnic blanket gets absorbed into the earth and the Hales fade into nothing. At the bottom of the hill, Charlie gives them a little wave before the simulation takes him back as well.

They're alone.

"I just wanted to see her again," 7 says, trembling. "I can't stop thinking about her, she's burned into my brain, and seeing her here in all my memories… I was  _horrible_  to her my whole life, but she… She loved me so much, and I let her die, Bella. I let her fucking die and disappear."

Bella clutches her hands. "No, that's not true. It was an impossible situation. Vera was trying to protect you, and Royce reacted. What happened to her that night was terrible, but it's not who you are. We aren't who we were at our worst times. There was nothing you could've done."

"You're wrong." 7 presses her face into her hand and sinks into Bella's side. The wind picks up, moves through her hair, shakes the leaves in the trees. It starts to howl. It's cold. 7's making it cold. She's doing all of this. Bella wraps her arms around her.

"You want to know the truth?" 7 says bitterly. "No one ever found out."

"What?" Bella can barely hear her over the wind ripping through the grass and bending the trees. The sky darkens. The meadow comes apart around them, blown to pieces in the wind, and Bella just squeezes her harder in her arms. 7 is quaking out of sadness, out of fear, out of anger- Bella has no idea.

She pulls away. "No one ever fucking found out. She died on that floor and Royce… He called his scumbag dad, and the whole thing just went away. They said she went missing."

The trees are torn up roots and all and dragged away. Leaves spin in a torrential column, dirt blackens the air. Bella feels herself getting taken, lifted into the air and disappeared forever. She clings to 7 and hides her face. The ground below them fissures, rocks break apart and are thrown into the air, trees are swallowed into the earth. The damage is total.

"It's been three years, and her family's still hoping she's going to just come home one day like nothing happened," 7 shouts over the chaos. "And I can't even  _look_  at them. They offered to let me and my brothers live with them after our parents died, but I  _couldn't_. So I sent Evan and Kieran to live with an aunt they'd never met, and I didn't go with them. They hate me. They won't even talk to me. They think I abandoned them."

All at once, everything stops. It's so quiet, Bella's head fills with crackling white noise just to compensate, and the air against her cheeks is warm, almost hot. No, it's too hot. And it's not white noise at all. Bella opens her eyes to a wall of fire. The heat shoots down her spine waking up every nerve-ending.

She shakes 7's shoulders."We need to get out of here."

The fire roars, closing in on all sides, smoke fills the low ceiling of the treehouse. Bella coughs and pulls 7 away from the wall. She's nearly limp against her side, drowsily staring into the orange light.

"Wake up!" Bella shouts. "You have to wake up. I know you think life's better in here. You have your brothers and Vera is right next door and she's fine, but it's not real, Rosalie. It's a simulation and it's breaking down around us, can't you see it? She's gone! You have to let her go. But your brothers, they're still out there, and they  _need_  you."

The roof collapses, burning boards drop not even a foot from Bella's leg. The heat is unbearable. Air floods the gap and fire leaps at the sky, growing, fueled.

"Rose, please! You have to wake up!"

7 shifts in her arms. She touches Bella's face.

Bella closes her eyes as the flames take them.

…

…

…

**DAY 6**

.

Subject 7 and her fifth-floor analyst jolt awake in precisely the same instant. The nurse on duty suffers a cardiac event and is rushed up ten floors to where they keep the CriaTech cure for cardiac events.

In the meantime, no one was made aware that the two most important patients in the whole of the building had awakened. It was only by chance that Dr. Platt passed by the room on her way back to her office and saw them through the glass hugging each other like the world was ending.

It was only the beginning for them, and the very end of the acclaimed Project Submergence.


	4. Chapter 4

**DAY 298**

.

Subject 7, Rosalie Hale, twitches uncomfortably as Dr. Platt reactivates the implant in her neck. She'd just got an office on Twelve, sunlight and a view, and it already scores her more points with Rose, she can tell.

"How are you adjusting?"

"As well as I'd hoped."

"And the medication? Are you sleeping through the night?"

Rosalie nods, frowning. "It's better. I think it's helping. Whatever numbers you have on that thing could probably tell you better than I could."

"You don't sound too happy."

"No, I am. I've been going to therapy, and I'm taking some night classes. I think this is the best I've been since college… I've been to see my brothers a few times. It's getting better, I think."

"But?"

"But…" Rosalie sighs. "She's everywhere."

Dr. Platt folds her hands on top of her desk. "You mean Bella?"

Rose nods. "I  _know_  that she wasn't actually there, that we didn't have all these lives together. But she's in so many of my memories, and I don't know her, but it's like my brain thinks that I do."

"In what ways?"

"Like the other day, I was driving home from work and I kept thinking about what book I was going to read to Charlie when I got home- I don't even know who that is. And at the grocery store, I almost always end up with a block of tofu for her. I guess she doesn't eat meat?" The thought makes her smile a little, but it's short-lived. "I wake up every morning and look over, expecting her."

Dr. Platt listens. For once, she's not taking notes or coming up with a plan of approach because there simply  _isn't_  one. What Carlisle had named the Rescue Mission was absolutely unprecedented. There was no way to know what would happen if they succeeded at all, let alone what the lingering consequences would be months in the future.

"Then, of course, I remember she's not  _really_  in my life. Just in my head. And I have to remember over and over that the trial failed, and I have all these horrible, broken memories on top of the ones I already had, and just… Does she have my memories like I have hers? Is she suffering too?"

"I don't know," Dr. Platt admits. "Carlisle- Dr. Cullen and I have tried to keep in touch with her, but she left the company the day we released you from our care. She hasn't responded to anything I've sent her. I've thought about going out there to see her a few times, but I think she just wants to forget the whole thing."

…

…

…

**DAY 299**

.

Bella sets Charlie's plate of over easy eggs in front him on her way back upstairs to grab a different shirt. She promised Jake she'd keep him company while he works on her truck today, and she's running late getting ready.

After the trial, she'd really stuck to Jake. He's probably tired of hearing about all the lives she'd lived, about Charlie smiling again… about 7. She has to shake herself from it at every turn. Sometimes it's easy to forget none of it was real.

A few minutes later, she comes downstairs and yanks her rain boots on. She checks his plate and crosses her arms. "I made them how you like."

He nods distractedly, looking up at the dim dining room light. She knows it's wrong, but she's frustrated with him. He can't help it. It seems so long ago now that she'd come back to Forks to take care of him. It didn't seem so bad at first, but as the months wore on he'd fallen into a pallor that had overtaken him.

_What's wrong with him?_

_Nothing._

She'd taken him to dozens of doctors and CriaTech specialists, but it was always the same answer: Nothing. He just fell apart one day. Nothing more or less, just a new normal.

He pushes the plate away and drums his fingers on the edge. "Bells, it's not your job to take care of me."

"I know, Dad. I just- I think I need to be here with you right now." He's always going to be the way he is. No miracle trial is going to suddenly appear at the lab and magically reset him. She's come to terms with that.

There's a knock on the door. Jake. She grabs her keys and her jacket off the rack before saying a quick goodbye to Charlie and pulling open the door to an empty porch.

"Jake?" she says, stepping out. But it isn't Jacob at all.

It's 7- Rosalie- standing at the bottom of the stairs looking back and forth between the address number on the house and the soggy piece of paper in her hands.

Bella blinks, stunned. But she's  _there_  and she's getting wet in the rain because she's not from here and doesn't own an industrial raincoat like everyone else. But she  _should_  know because Bella bought her at least three in the simulation, which she never wore and always suffered the consequences.

"Rose?"

She looks up, startled, but when she sees her, Bella feels the pull. Up the hill, down two floors, down a cup of purple tar.

"I don't know what I'm doing here really. I know we don't know each other, but… I haven't felt- I… I can't stop thinking about the simulation and you, and-" She stops herself and takes a step back. "I shouldn't have-"

Bella nearly trips down the stairs getting to her. She rushes into a hug that Rose wasn't ready for, but she squeezes her back. The air crackles and the back of her neck stings, but it's the only thing that's felt right in almost a year.

She quit her job on the fifth floor, said goodbye to Angela and never looked back. It hurt too much when Rose went back to New York right after Dr. Cullen released them from the hospital. But if she thinks hard enough, she can still remember that last moment in the treehouse, sitting at the edge of five-and-a-half million lives together. It instilled an ache, a longing that wasn't just going to vanish once the sedatives wore off.

"I want to go back so badly."

"I know," Bella says. "So do I."

They pull away and Rose steps back a little awkwardly. She apologizes again, but it's lost in the rain. Bella shakes her head, she's too struck to even speak. But even standing in dark, in the freezing rain, all the light in the world shines just for them.


End file.
